"A year after your death, . . ." (after Czeslaw Milosz)

St. Joseph's Cemetery, Yonkers, NY

January 7^th will be four years since you were buried, four years since your worried children broke down the door of your Cairo apartment and found you collapsed on the floor, dead, with a trickle of dried blood in the corner of your mouth.

Aswan, Egypt (December 26, 2001)

A year after your death, I was still so lost without you. I couldn’t listen to our songs without breaking down and sobbing. Pink’s song, “Who Knew” was playing on the radio, the lyrics exactly our story choked me and left me gasping for air.

Khan el Khalili, Cairo, Egypt (April 2003)

A year after your death, on February 1, 2009, I realized I needed to lift the lid from my own coffin. I had buried myself next to you in the warm Egyptian sand, lay next to you and watched your body decompose as my soul was fractured with pain and grief. I felt you reaching out for me; I longed to join you, but I kept living, kept breathing, kept waking up each morning to another day.

Istanbul, Turkey (August 2003)

On Sunday, February 1, 2009, I woke up, looked at the 60 pounds I had gained in the wake of your death. It was a bitter winter morning. I dressed and drove to the Elmsford Animal Shelter in search of a dog. There I found Maxine. She was 5-6 years old and as depressed as I was, having recently been dumped at the shelter by the family who had adopted her as a puppy because she had chewed on some furniture.

Cario, Egypt (September 6, 2003)

A year after your death, I was still furious with you for choosing to die rather then choosing to live.

Orange, California (November 24, 2003)

A year after your death, I was still so racked with guilt and grief that I muddled through life as a zombie – the walking wounded, the living dead.

Ventura, California (December 20, 2003)

A year after your death, I still could not remember any of the good times – it was too painful; it was easier to nurse my anger than to remember our love.